Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland Volume XXIV Part 19

Kind Love's pure affection!

Pity's benediction!

Charity's sweet action!

All blessed urbanities; Man on man still preying; Bleating lambkins slaying!

Devouring blood, and saying All soft humanities.

III.

Dreaming, doubting, moping, Hopelessly still hoping, Dimly, darkly groping My being's mystery; This sobbing and this sighing, This laughing and this crying, This living and this dying-- Man's mortal history!

Why this wild contention?

This mocking, cruel invention-- What the deep intention?

Who shall give replies?

Demons wildly sporting, G.o.d's beautiful distorting, Or His own hand extorting Sin-born penalties?

IV.

Those with whom I started Oceans wide have parted: Some are broken-hearted, Some lie in the clay; Those I once heard prattle, For whom I shook the rattle, Engaged in life's vain battle, Push me off the way.

The world's laugh it jeers me, Their looks they seem to fear me, I hear them whisper near me, "Old man, why linger here?"

She who loved me dearly, Wandered with me cheerily, Is now a phantom merely, Seen through memory's tear.

Pale ghost, flitting yonder!

With drooping head you wander.

Deep in thought you ponder Why I stay from thee; Cease those hands to beckon, Vain, vain, may you reckon; Alas! I cannot quicken Death's desired decree.

Weary, weary wandering, Life's last moments squandering, Weary, weary wandering Through this world of sin, None can undeceive me, None but ONE relieve me, None but ONE receive me, His peace to enter in.

XXIV.

THE SIEGE: A DRAMATIC TALE.

DRAMATIS PERSONae.--SIR ALEXANDER SETON, Governor of Berwick; RICHARD and HENRY, his sons. PROVOST RAMSAY. HUGH ELLIOT, a traitor. KING EDWARD. EARL PERCY. MATILDA, wife of Seton; etc.

SCENE I.--_A Street--the Market-place_.

_Enter_ SIR ALEXANDER SETON, RICHARD _and_ HENRY (_his sons_), PROVOST RAMSAY, HUGH ELLIOT, _and others of the People_.

_Provost Ramsay_.--Brither Scotchmen! it is my fixed an'

solemn opinion, that the King o' England has entered into a _holy alliance_ wi' the enemy o' mankind! An' does he demand us to surrender!--to gie up our toun!--our property!--our lives!--our liberty!--to Southern pagans, that hae entered into compact wi' the powers o' the air! Surrender! No, Scotchmen!

While we breathe, we will breathe the _breath o' Freedom!_ as it soughs down the Tweed, between the heathery hills o' our ain auld country! I am but provost o' Berwick, Sir Alexander, an' ye are its governor; an' in a time like this, the power o'

defending or surrendering the gates is yours; but though ye gie up the keys this very hour, an' were every stane o' the walls turned are upon anither--here!--the power to defend this market-place is mine!--and _here_ will I stand, while this hand can wield a sword, or a Scotchman is left to die by my side!

_Sir Alex_.--Fear not, good provost; I through life have learned To live with honour, or with honour fall.

_Richard_.--And as the father dies, so shall his sons. What sayest thou, Henry?

_Henry_.--I would say but this-- (If one with a smooth chin may have a voice)-- When thou dost n.o.bly fall, I'll but survive To strike revenge--then follow thy example.

_Provost Ramsay_.--Bravely said, callants! As sure as death, I wish ye were my sons! Do ye ken, Sir Alexander, the only thing that grieves me in a day like this, is, that I hae naebody to die for the glory an' honour o' auld Scotland but mysel? But, save us, neebor Elliot! ye look as douf an' as dowie-like as if ye had been forced to mak yer breakfast o' yer coat-sleeve.

_Hugh Elliot_.---In truth, methinks, this is no time for smiles-- In every street, each corner of the town, Struck by some unseen hand, the dead are strewed; From every house the children's wail is heard, Screaming in vain for food; and the poor mother, Worn to a skeleton, sits groaning by!

My house, 'tis known, o'erlooks the battlements; 'Tis not an hour gone that I left my couch, Hastening to speed me hither, when a sound, Fierce as the thunders, shook our firm-built walls: The cas.e.m.e.nts fell in atoms, and the bed, Which I that moment left, rocked in confusion: I turned to gaze on it, and I beheld!--beheld My wife's fair bosom torn--her heart laid bare!

And the red stream came oozing to my feet!

_Is this a time for smiles!_

_Provost Ramsay_.--Your wife! Heaven preserve us! Weel, after a', I hae reason to be thankfu' I hae neither wife nor bairns on a day like this!

_Sir Alex_.--Behold an envoy from the English camp, Sent with proposals, or some crafty truce.

_Hugh Elliot_.--Let me entreat you, then, most n.o.ble sir, Give him all courtesy; and if his terms Be such as we in honour may accept, Refuse them not by saying, WE WILL DIE.

_Enter_ EARL PERCY _and_ Attendants.

_Percy_.--Good morrow, my Scotch cousins!

My gracious sovereign, your right lawful master, Hath, in his mercy, left you these conditions-- Now to throw wide your gates, and, if ye choose, Go walk into the Tweed, and drown your treason; Or run, like scapegoats, to the wilderness, Bearing your sins, and half a week's provision; Or, should these terms not meet your approbation, Ere midnight we shall send some _fleeter messengers_.

So now, old Governor, my master's answer?

_Provost Ramsay_.--The mischief's in your impudence! But were I Sir Alexander, the only answer your master should hae, would be your weel-bred tongue sent back upon the end o' an arrow; an' that wad be as _fleet a messenger_, as ye talk about _fleet messengers_, as ony I ken o'.

_Percy_.--Peace, thou barbarian! keep thy frog's throat closed.

I say, old greybeard, hast thou found an answer?

_Sir Alex_.--Had my Lord Percy found more fitting phrase To couch his haughty mandate, I perhaps Had found some meet reply. But as it is, Thou hast thine answer in this people's eyes.

_Hugh Elliot_.--Since we with life and honour may depart, Send not an answer that must seal our ruin, Though it be hero-like to talk of death.

[_Enter_ LADY SETON, _listening_.

Bethink thee well, Sir Governor: these men Have wives with helpless infants at their b.r.e.a.s.t.s; What husband, think ye, would behold a child Dashed from the bosom where his head had pillowed, That his fair wife might fill a conqueror's arms!

These men have parents--feeble, helpless, old; Yea, men have daughters!--they have maids that love them-- Daughters and maidens chaste as the new moon-- Will they behold them screaming on the streets, And in the broad day be despoiled by violence?

Think of _these things_, my countrymen! [_Aside to_ PERCY, Now, my Lord Percy, you may read your answer.

_Percy [aside]_.--So thou art disaffected, good Sir Orator: Well, ply thy wits, and Edward will reward thee-- Though, for my part, I'd knight thee with a halter!

_Sir Alex_.--Is this thy counsel in the hour of peril, Milk-hearted man? To thee, and all like thee, _I_ offer terms more _generous_ still than Edward's: Depart ye by the Scotch or English gate-- Both shall be opened. Lade your beasts of burden-- Take all you have--your food, your filthy gold, Your wives, your children, parents, and yourselves!

Go to our Scottish king, and prate of courage!

Or go to Edward--Percy will conduct thee.